


'tis the season

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Series: A Series of Completely Unrelated Festive Stories [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, F/F, Fluff, Hot Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 16:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12915465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: “There,” Pansy says, with a satisfied nod, as she finally finishes arranging the lights. There’s a large clump of white lights at the bottom of the tree that haven’t quite been untangled properly, and several sets of overlapping multi-coloured lights wrapped around the top of the tree. Hermione idly wonders whether it would look any better in the skip outside.





	'tis the season

**Author's Note:**

> Lil Christmassy pansmione fic to start off the Christmas season  
> Hope you like it!  
> Prompt: TREE DECORATING (bonus points if one of them is doing it completely wrong omg why am i in love with you) ... from this post: http://nbstilinski.tumblr.com/post/168161094785/nadiahilker-im-always-a-slut-for-a-christmas

Hermione’s fingers twitch. She’s never considered herself a very violent person before – punching someone in the face doesn’t count, not when that someone was being a complete twat and utterly deserved it – but faced with Pansy’s decorating skills, she’s contemplating some very vicious actions. 

“There,” Pansy says, with a satisfied nod, as she finally finishes arranging the lights. There’s a large clump of white lights at the bottom of the tree that haven’t quite been untangled properly, and several sets of overlapping multi-coloured lights wrapped around the top of the tree. Hermione idly wonders whether it would look any better in the skip outside. 

“What’s this?”

“Tinsel,” Hermione says, gritting her teeth as Pansy selects the brightest, gaudiest piece of tinsel in the box. “The gold goes at the bottom, and then you gradually introduce—”

She cuts herself off as Pansy lightly throws a piece of red tinsel near the bottom of the tree, tucking it half behind the lights. She inches forward slightly off her seat, and Pansy shoots her a warning look, pursing her lips. Her lipstick is bright red and slightly smudged with chocolate from the hot drink steaming on the side table. Her cashmere jumper is rolled up to her elbows, revealing soft creamy skin and a small birthmark in the shape of a strawberry, near her wrist. Hermione focuses on the birthmark, imagines kissing it softly, all so that she won’t see the way Pansy starts draping tinsel haphazardly all over the tree. 

“You better not be moving,” Pansy says lightly. Hermione pauses, half off the sofa, and then drops stiffly back down onto the cushion. “You’ve been relegated to the sofa after last years’ debacle. Just drink your hot chocolate.”

Hermione stares mutinously at her clasped hands, and then sighs and reaches for her hot chocolate. Even the moving otters on the ceramic surface can’t cheer her up, but she can’t exactly _blame_ Pansy for deciding that she’s only allowed to oversee the Christmas preparations, rather than take control. Last year really had been a debacle, one that ended with Hermione as a sobbing mess while Pansy stared at the toppled-over tree in bemusement. 

“I still don’t see why I can’t just tell you where to put the decorations,” Hermione suggests. “That way we’ve reached a happy medium.”

Pansy shoots her a droll look, before saying, “We can’t do that, darling, because last year started the exact same way. You sat there and told me where to put the decorations, and I almost flung them at your head. Then you got up and started moving everything around, and taking ornaments out of my hands, and I almost strangled you with the tinsel. As much as I love you, decorating doesn’t exactly bring out the best in you.”

Hermione feels a curl of warmth flicker to life inside her stomach. No matter what they are doing, no matter what season it was, she will never tire of hearing those three little words. 

“I love you too,” Hermione says, murmuring the words against the lip of her mug. Pansy pauses, a glass icicle dangling from the tip of her forefinger, and a delightful shade of pink dusts the apples of her cheeks. 

“Yes, well, obviously,” Pansy says, clearing her throat. She moves forward to place the icicle on the tree, and Hermione smiles fondly. She always feels vaguely triumphant whenever she manages to fluster Pansy, who remains as unshakeable as ever. 

“The icicles don’t go there,” Hermione says, and Pansy stops, half an inch away from the tree branch, before proceeding to put it there anyway. Hermione sighs deeply, rearranges the blanket over her knees and sips at her hot chocolate. Then she splutters, froth covering her lips as she chokes. 

_“Is there alcohol in this?”_

Pansy draws back in surprise, and then glances at her own mug, a little further away, brow furrowed. “I wondered why it tasted a little bland. Sorry, darling, that one’s mine.”

She swaps the mugs while Hermione sits there, equal parts stunned and disgusted. 

“Why would you sully chocolate with alcohol?” she mutters, and Pansy snorts delicately. Their fingers brush as Hermione takes her mug, and she uses the moment to wrap her hand around Pansy’s wrist and tug her down onto the sofa, lifting the mug up above her head to stop it from spilling. Pansy falls down next to her with a surprised sound and then sighs happily, tucking her feet in Hermione’s lap under the blanket, and lounging back against the armrest. Hermione lowers her mug and shifts sideways into Pansy’s warmth, 

“The tree isn’t done,” Pansy says, glancing over at the mess of twinkling lights and tinsel. 

“The tree was never going to get done in one night,” Hermione points out pragmatically. “It was always going to take multiple tries and several arguments.”

“Don’t forget the passionate rounds of make-up sex after the arguments,” Pansy drawls.

“That too,” Hermione admits, blushing slightly. 

“And the copious amounts of alcohol.”

“We could always leave that out this year,” Hermione suggests, laughing slightly at Pansy’s scandalised expression. “Or not.”

“Or we could leave out the Christmas carolling,” Pansy says, sitting up and stealing a sip of Hermione’s hot chocolate. “What? Mine’s all the way over there.” She points vaguely in the direction of the Christmas tree, where the hot chocolate sits beside the tree. Hermione watches as Crookshanks creeps out from on top of the array of blankets in the corner and stalks towards the mug. 

“I like the Christmas carolling, and you have a beautiful voice,” Hermione says. “You’re just shy.”

“Shy,” Pansy scoffs. “ _Shy_. I am not shy. How dare you insinuate such a thing.”

Hermione laughs softly. 

Then she leans forward, and indulges in a soft, plush kiss that leaves both of them slightly breathless. Pansy draws back with a lazy smile. One of the sets of lights flickers off, and then on again. Crookshanks dips his paw in the mug and tips it over. A pool of hot chocolate steadily grows on the floor, and Hermione slides down the length of the sofa until she’s curled up beside Pansy. 

“You’re not going to clean it up immediately?” Pansy teases. 

Hermione leans up and kisses Pansy’s jaw, and watches the smile grow on her face, before resting her head on Pansy’s shoulder, pulling the blanket up over the both of them. 

She can always clean it up in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you! Please leave a comment/kudos if you liked it and let me know what you thought! And come leave festive prompts @thealmostrhetoricalquestion on tumblr. Thank you!


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